The Unholy Three by Tod Robbins

Author:Tod Robbins [Robbins, Tod]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781230352305
Google: NhNQnwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1120341329
Publisher: Theclassics Us
Published: 2008-11-05T23:00:00+00:00

15

WHEN DOROTHY AND MRS. SMITHERS entered the dining-room, they found their parents already seated in their accustomed places – Mr. Arlington at the head of the board, Mrs. Arlington at the foot. It had often seemed to the younger girl that not merely a few feet of shining mahogany separated these two, but that it symbolised something else – possibly a great chasm of life that nothing could bridge; or the dividing line separating strength from weakness, success from failure. Often she had stretched out her hands to them, attempting to draw them together, to make them as one – and always she had failed. Finally, she realised that nothing she could do would ever accomplish a mental union between these two; that, without mutual understanding, loneliness is inevitable. If the one could know a single hour of weakness, if the other could know a single hour of strength, then this chasm might be bridged – but not till then.

On this night, the contrast of character was mirrored on their faces to a marked degree. Mr. Arlington, just back from a day of triumph on the Street, was especially square of jaw and keen of eye; Mrs. Arlington, after an ineffectual afternoon’s sewing for charity, was especially faded out and wan looking. They faced each other with the vague hostility of substance and shadow, of health and sickness, of matter and nerves.

“Late as usual, Dot,” said the ogre of the house, frowning over his soup. “Do you think this is a hotel?”

“It was Tommy, father,” broke in Mrs. Smithers. “He wouldn’t go to sleep.”

“Wouldn’t go to sleep, eh? When I was a boy, if I didn’t go to sleep when I was told, I was strapped till I did.”

“Oh, John,” cried Mrs. Arlington faintly, “it isn’t possible! How could you?”

“There was none of this namby-pamby business when I was a boy,” he continued unheedingly. “Fathers were fathers then, and mothers were mothers. When a child stayed awake, he was beaten; when he cried, he was beaten; and when he laughed out loud, he was beaten. A licking was the universal medicine then. But now how is it? Why, any nasty brat can raise a disturbance, can put a whole household topsy-turvy. It’s a regular business with them. They howl, and get a stick of candy for shutting up. No wonder they do it – it pays!”

“But Tommy isn’t a nasty little brat!” said Dorothy. “He’s a dear sweet-tempered child.”

“He is a nasty little brat,” said her father, giving her a bullying look. “He’s a nasty spoilt little brat. I should know – I’m his grandfather.”

Dorothy was about to reply with heat, when suddenly William appeared behind her chair and uttered a few low spoken words which changed the topic of conversation.

“I begs pardon, Miss Dorothy,” said he, “but the maid h’asked me to h’ask you if you might be wantin’ some of Master Tommy’s h’old clothes what ’es h’outgrown. She ’as ’em in her trunk, ma’am; and she says as ’ow they’ll fit the new baby.

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